


Ride On

by DarkSeth



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkSeth/pseuds/DarkSeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the song “Ride on” by Christy Moore<br/>…”I turn to face an empty space where you used to lie, and look for the spark that lights the night... Ride On,... I could never go with you no matter how I wanted to...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride On

**Author's Note:**

> This is one I dug out of storage. I haven't had a time to go over it, so there may be many mistakes and the writing is pretty shoddy in my opinion. But by posting it, I might force myself to work on it a little more.

Sherlock’s fall and subsequent death devastated John. He found himself listlessly going through the motions of each passing day. The absence of his other half, or soul-mate if you were a romantic, had torn a hole in his heart and the pain gnawed at John relentlessly, day and night. After two weeks he could barely stand the pain. That last conversation kept playing on a constant loop. Everywhere he looked, there were reminders and that last _“Goodbye John”_ reverberated in his skull.

Sitting in their, no _his_ , flat, John’s eyes kept straying to his Browning’s hiding place. It’s song was tempting him, a way out. No, John shook his head, _a cowards way out._ He did not survive Afghanistan to be finished off by his own hand, no matter how hard the situation. Still the temptation never left him, and he would every now and then find himself holding his weapon in his hand. The smooth and cold metal felt comforting in his hand.

Every so often Lestrade would come by for a visit. The first time it was tense, but they slowly worked through the guilt, anger, and blame. Lestrade was upset with himself for doubting Sherlock and letting Sally and Anderson sway him.

After walking in on John in one of his gun-holding moods, Lestrade started calling John in to New Scotland Yard, and inevitably John started looking at some of the cases. The first time he dealt with a case was heart wrenching, memories came flooding back and almost inundated him under the weight of pain and guilt. As he gazed around the crime scene, he heard Sherlock’s voice point out clues and he relayed them to an astonished Lestrade.

The crime scenes gave John a chance to reconnect with Sherlock, and soon he started anticipating the next with baited breath. Now that he had so immersed himself into the work it seemed like Sherlock’s ghost lingered around every corner. The Work had so taken over John’s life that he was barely recognizable as Captain John H. Watson, MD.

One morning Lestrade texted him a new case and in his haste to get out the door, John grabbed Sherlock’s coat that still hung by the door. He never had the heart to throw out something Sherlock held so dear. As soon as he stepped onto the street, the coat swirling around him as it did when Sherlock wore it, John realized his mistake and froze. The dawning realization and horror of what he was doing to himself, drove him to his knees. Sherlock may have physically died, but John would not let him go. He had to let him go, for his and Sherlock’s sake. He wanted to finally heal. He would always remember his eccentric flatmate and partner, but only as the past. John still had a life to live.

 

_“Goodbye Sherlock.”_


End file.
